Falling
by tika12001
Summary: You don't know when everything changed. You honestly don't know when she became the centre of your universe. You don't know, but you suspect it was approximately 5 minutes after you met her. First time trying to write in second person and 2nd (or 3rd?) attempt at an explicit M rated story so please let me know what you think! Rather nervous!


**Title: Falling**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: You don't know when everything changed. You honestly don't know when she became the centre of your universe. You don't know, but you suspect it was approximately 5 minutes after you met her.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, sigh.**

**Authors note: So I tried again to write an M rated story. I did a... better... job this time. Still think it needs improvement, but I'm posting it anyway to see what you guys think. SO PLEASE REVIEW. I will love you forever.**

**Anyways, onto the story!**

_R&IR&IR&I_

You don't know when everything changed.

You honestly don't remember when she became the centre of your universe.

You don't remember, but you suspect it was approximately 5 minutes after you met her.

Maura Isles was different. She was quirky, interesting, hilarious and oh so intelligent. She made you feel things you had never felt before, do things you had never done before. She made you want to be a better person.

You don't know when your feelings changed from friendship to more. You don't know, but you suspect it was always there. It just got stronger over the years. Every bad breakup, every broken heart, every frustration was shared. Every tear and every smile was shared or discussed.

Your Ma was almost right when she said you talked to Frankie about everything... you do share a lot with your little brother, but you don't share everything. You don't talk to him about Maura. Not anymore. You used to, and you know that he noticed when you stopped but you can't bring yourself to start those conversations again. Not about her. The thing with Frankie is that he could always read you... sometimes you used to think he knew you better than you knew yourself, and you know that he would pick up instantly on the recognition of your changed feelings.

You just don't feel ready for that conversation.

You suspect he knows anyway, and the reason behind his knowledge is_ because_ of your silence. But still, you can't talk to him. It's too scary, too difficult. Too impossible to acknowledge those feelings out loud, because to acknowledge them is to bring them out of the shadows, and you don't ever want them brought into the light.

She might not feel the same way.

She _probably doesn't_ feel the same way, and it would kill you if she didn't.

If she was cruel (which you know is almost impossible for her) it would hurt, but if she was kind as she told you that she did not reciprocate your desires, you thought it would kill you inside.

Because you would fall in love with her that much harder.

You would fall, and you don't think that you would ever be able to get up again.

You don't know when everything changed, but you do know when those changes got brought to your attention. It was Dean, of all people. FBI agent Gabriel Dean was the one who opened your eyes. You'd slept together and when you woke up the next morning, you slapped his hand off his face as though it was a foreign entity; a bug or creature not worthy of your time or attention. He didn't say anything, but you could tell it upset him. Almost your very first thought was of Maura, of how her mother was going in the hospital, of how she was coping and you sat up, scrubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands as you and Dean talked and he asked what he could do. You asked him to just be Gabriel, and he agreed.

"Paddy Doyle is back in town," you murmured, and watched his reaction.

"Patrick Doyle. You think the hit and run is connected to him?"

You hummed an agreement and lay back against the pillows. "If one of his enemies wanted to get back at him, Maura's the perfect target."

"Things could get a little ugly, that's what you're telling me."

"Yeah. How do I protect her?" you asked, desperately searching his eyes. Dean looked away.

"Patrick Doyle is one of the FBI's most wanted fugitives..." he started, deliberately avoiding eye contact, and you sigh loudly in frustration.

"Oh God, okay, well I guess we'll always have South Boston," you state, sitting up again.

"So that's it?" Dean states, and you could hear a bite in his voice, "I pursue an organised crime boss and you and I are..."

"I don't know!" you explode. "I don't know, Dean, but this always happens!"

Dean sighed heavily. "I'll never be first for you, will I?"

You turn to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

"It will always be her. She'll always be the most important one in your life."

You open and shut your mouth a few times. "Dean... she's... she's my best friend. I... I don't..." you trail off, unsure of how to proceed and stare at him in overwhelming confusion.

He looked at you for a long time and you can tell that he doesn't believe your half hearted argument. "Okay," he said finally. "Well, I gave you my word I'd just be me. I won't do anything until you say I can."

You didn't really think about that conversation until later. Much later, after it had all gone down, Paddy Doyle was in hospital, and you came to the realization that you loved someone who was refusing to talk to you because you shot her father, and you vaguely wondered when your life had turned into a soap opera.

After that, life was a whirlwind of activity and inactivity. Maura wasn't speaking to you, you were under investigation, you were taken off homicide and you were simply miserable about everything. Luckily, a miserable Jane Rizzoli is also a pissed Jane Rizzoli, so you figured out the dirty cop pretty quickly and got restored to homicide, so at least one part of your life was coming together. But you didn't know what to do with the small amounts of free time you had. Countless times, you found yourself picking up the phone only to put it down again when you remembered that she hated you now. Each time you let yourself forgot made you hate yourself a little bit more as well.

When your friendship was finally repaired, you still didn't do anything. Everything was too new, too raw. While you had settled back into the old friendship easily, like slipping on an old, comfortable pair of shoes, you also felt like the soles of those shoes were now worn, and you were stepping in a room filled with shattered glass. You didn't _think_ the glass could penetrate the sole of the shoe again, not so soon, but you still walked as though on eggshells, tentatively feeling your way with bated breath, praying that you wouldn't look down to see blood. To see blood meant that the sole of the shoes were torn forever... that this time, they were irreparable, and the thought of your friendship with Maura ever being irreparable made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

So you hid it.

You hid it so well, that you almost began to forget. But you couldn't. To forget would be a blessed relief in a way, a release from the agony of indecisiveness and inactivity, but it would also be a torture. A torment of the worst kind. Because to forget your feelings fully would be to forget Maura, and _that_ was beyond imagining.

And you'd find yourself slipping.

There would be days, sometimes even as long as a week, where you would look at her and just see her as Maura Isles, your best friend. Everything would be relaxed and easy; there would be no imagined awkwardness to your interactions, no reading between the lines. But then Maura would say something awkward. Or she'd laugh. Or she'd smile at you in that special little way that seemed to be reserved only for you, and you'd fall again.

You'd fall head over heels in love again.

And it got to the point where you fell so many times that your hypothetical knees were bruised and bleeding, your back was scratched up and your head and limbs were aching with all the tumbling, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

You were in agony, but it was a sweet agony of love, and that was something you could handle.

And sometimes you caught Maura staring at you with an odd look on her face, and you almost let yourself wonder. You almost let yourself dream, but you'd stop yourself before any thoughts could fully form in your mind. To dream was dangerous. To imagine was volatile, and to wonder was worse. Because wondering led to fantasies, which lead to daydreams and night dreams and vague half-formed plans that could never come true.

To wonder was dangerous, because it led to a path that led to a wood. And you knew you would never escape that wood alone. The wolf inside would smell the blood from your knees, hands, ankles and elbows, and he would come running, and you would never see Maura again, not because he killed you, but because he made you realize how much you needed her. And to realize that would be to never escape the woods again.

So you didn't wonder. You didn't dream. You just let yourself be Maura's friend, and never thought about anything more.

Because you were never as brave as Maura.

Yes, you were the cop, so you were brave in the physical sense. You would throw yourself in harm's way to save an innocent without a second thought, but when it came right down to it? You were a coward. You were too scared to pursue anything with Maura, because it might hurt. And you tell yourself that you just don't want to make Maura feel awkward when she inevitably doesn't return your feelings, but it's a lie. You lie to yourself, because it's easier than facing the truth: you are terrified that she will feel the same way. You are scared, because it means putting your heart on the line. You are frightened, because you love her so damn much that if anything ever happened to her, you'd die too.

It's easier to deny everything, you told yourself.

I don't want to hurt her, you convinced yourself.

She won't feel the same anyway, you thought to yourself and,

What's the point? you argued with yourself.

But Maura was braver than you. She was worried too, but not for the same reasons. She worried that you would die on the job before she got a chance to tell you, to talk to you.

She worried that you would get injured, and not be able to hear her words.

She worried that you would get brain damaged, and not be able to understand.

She wanted you to know, just in case that day came, and it terrified you when she cornered you one day in your own home.

You begged, you pleaded with her, but her hazel eyes bored into yours with such intensity that your words were silenced almost instantly. You stared deep into her eyes, and you opened your mouth. Perhaps you were going to try again, perhaps you were going to apologize, maybe you were even going to make a joke, but Maura didn't let you ruin the moment. She pressed a finger to your lips and you breathed out slowly, watching her as her eyes slipped shut and a shiver ran the length of her body.

"Jane," she whispers, and you realize you are falling again.

"Maura," you whisper back, and it was with a sense of doom that you realize you would not recover from this fall, not this time.

"Jane," she says again, and you gasp as you realize that she has caught you mid fall; caught you with one single word, wrapped you up in layers upon layers of silky smooth trust, love, respect and concern.

"Maura," you say again, the word almost ripped from your throat as you let all your insecurities show, and you only hope that she is strong enough to hold you up.

She is.

She captures your lips in her own, and you realize that now it is not only you falling, but she as well. You are both falling, but you only panic briefly before realizing that you have made it into your bedroom somehow, that the falling is only taking place so that you can both be on your bed, that the fall is over already and somehow, Maura has caught you again. She is beneath you physically, but she surrounds you emotionally, and you realize that you have never felt as content as you do in this moment. You have never felt as safe. You look down at her, and she smiles at you.

"I love you Jane," she whispers, and the tears fill your eyes and spill down over your cheeks without you even realizing. She looks concerned for a moment, but only for a moment. Barely an instant, because she knows you so well, and she realizes that she has made the soles of the shoes the strongest they have ever been, she has cleaned and healed your knees, your hands, feet and elbows, and walked with you into the woods to vanquish the wolf. She has done all of that, just by being herself, and your tears are simply representative of how happy she has made you. So she leans up and starts kissing them away, but you don't let her continue for long before you capture her lips again, tasting your own salty freedom on her mouth. You kiss her, even as your hands fumble down below; you kiss her even as you strip her; you kiss her even as you undress yourself. You kiss her like a dying man drinks water greedily, until the feel of your bare bodies finally touching without barriers shocks you into separating. You pull yourself up and gaze down.

Her eyes are hooded, and her breaths are frequent and shallow: she is panting. Her chest heaves with every gasp, and you watch the way her breasts move up and down with each inhalation and exhalation. You study her shoulders, her collar bone, her neck, finally lifting yourself up onto your knees so your gaze can travel further. You look at her belly button, her waist, her hips, the light brown damp snatch of hair that sits neatly at the junction of thighs and trunk. As you look, a wave of goose bumps appears, seemingly following your gaze, and when she shivers, you look at her face again and smile. You feel the smile is a little bit devilish, but evidently she approves. She arches her back slightly and moans, and suddenly you are all too aware of your own body.

You were not aware of it till this point. You only thought of her.

A wave of warm liquid spills out onto your thighs as she moans, and you gasp. "Maura," you mumble softly, and she wraps her arms around you, pulling you in tight. Your breasts are nestled together, and you can feel her hard nipples pressing into your side like little pinpricks of delight and you sigh.

"I will always catch you, Jane," Maura says into your ear, and you close your eyes, a deep guttural moan finding its way out of your throat. You find her lips again blindly, feeling as her hands reach up and thread through your hair, the curls capturing her. Your arms are wrapped around Maura, and you worry about crushing her so you begin to lift yourself up slightly but she pulls you back down, wrapping one arm around your back while the other one stays buried in your hair. She pulls back from your lips enough to tell you to stay, and then you are kissing again. Your legs have separated; your right thigh is now between her legs, and you can feel her hot entrance pressing against you. She shifts minutely and suddenly her thigh is between your legs and without even realizing it, you are rutting against it. She is moving against your thigh too; you can feel the moisture increase as her movements speed up and eventually you can't kiss her anymore, you are too far along so you break apart, your face immediately burying itself in her neck, in her sweet smelling hair as you continue to thrust your hips. Vaguely you wonder if this will be enough for you, but then Maura is crying out your name, her hips spasming wildly as she orgasmed and the sheer perfection of it all startled an orgasm out of you too. You buck wildly against Maura's body as your body coils higher and higher up the realms of pleasure and finally, with a scream, you are there.

You are higher than you ever thought possible.

You are with Maura.

And you know that you will never fall again, because you were never really falling in the first place.

It turned out that you were flying.

END

**Let me know what you think please! :-)**


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